THEY’VE NEVER never had a hit song. And after years of nibbles from the mainstream, they’re still on the edge of breaking. But over their five years in existence, no local band has influenced the South Bay music scene more than the Mumlers.
What they did, simply put, was make iconoclasts cool again. They arrived about the time the scene was hitting rock bottom—though there was always great talent here, it was a lot safer to be a straight-ahead punk or metal or roots band when gigs were scarce. The Mumlers, on the other hand, mashed up rock, folk, soul, jazz, garage and roots music—and dared anyone to classify their utterly unclassifiable sound. “It was a weird time when we started doing it,” remembers lead singer and songwriter Will Sprott, “and I was surprised people were as open to it as they were.”
But it wasn’t a happy accident. It wasn’t that the band hoped they would sound just enough like other good bands to fit in. This was straight-up contrarianism. The Mumlers wanted to do what no one else was doing. “I kind of cherish that feeling,” admits Sprott. “Music scenes in general, they’re so trendy. I find it weird that people want to be doing the same thing all at once.”
But even though the Mumlers had never really sought out a scene, one sprang up around them anyway. It wasn’t a movement defined by one sound but by a complete absence of one sound. Suddenly, bands that didn’t sound quite like any other band started popping up in force again around the South Bay. There were so many, in fact, that Leslie Hampton’s Side With Us label was able to put together a whole roster of them, including Ugly Winner, Dirty Pillows and the Albert Square.
Elsewhere, Le Verita began playing ambient electronic folk-rock, the Limousines put their first songs together on laptops over email and other maverick bands started making the rounds of the local scene. Certainly, this can’t all be chalked up to the Mumlers’ influence, but it’s astounding how many local musicians mention the rise of the Mumlers as the turning point for the South Bay scene. It wasn’t that they were trying to emulate their sound; instead, they were inspired by their dedication to a unique musical vision.
Through it all, Sprott and his band continued to confound. After NPR and Rolling Stone expressed interest in the old-weird folk of the Mumlers’ debut album, they changed their sound significantly on the soulful follow-up, Don’t Throw Me Away. Then, when invited to do an iTunes session, they reworked songs from both of those albums extensively, sprinkling vibes over the creepy “Coffin Factory” and turning “Red River Hustle” into an all-out mariachi festival.
It’s no surprise, then, that Sprott’s solo shows would be unconventional, as well. He says they’re more like “partial Mumlers shows” than solo shows, since he tries to recruit whoever will show up from the band to play with him at each one. Mostly, he started booking the gigs because the full band simply couldn’t meet the demand for their music. “My band gets sick of me if I ask them to play all the time,” he explains.
Even when the other members don’t show up, Sprott likes to imagine they did. “I have the whole imaginary band playing along with me in my head,” he says. However, the solo shows do give fans a glimpse into a side of Sprott’s songwriting that doesn’t get showcased when he plays with the band. “There’s a lot of Mumlers songs we never play live, because they’re a little mellower. I have my own little versions,” he says.
On top of that, he’s written a lot of new songs that he can play solo. And if the Mumlers seemed out there and contrarian; well, Sprott doesn’t even necessarily keep time in a normal way when he plays by himself.
“Having a band is like having this big rowdy crew. When you’re by yourself, it’s very difficult,” he says. “But I like it. … I’m sort of exploring it a little more. I’m thinking about doing some recordings like this.”
While other South Bay bands may think the Mumlers have “made it” to some extent, Sprott says he goes back and forth on whether he agrees. He just wants to make a life for himself and his band playing music—and that isn’t nearly as easy yet as some people might think. “You have to be pretty much psychotic to keep doing it,” he says.
Will Sprott
Saturday, 8pm
$5
